Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

The individual finger joints had fallen away from each other as the connecting tissue had burned from them. They lay in the bottom of the fridge, still hot to the touch. I picked them out, allowing them to cool a little before bagging them. All my unused evidence bags had been in my flight case. They’d gone up in flames with everything else, but I’d brought a box of freezer bags from the hotel to use instead. When I’d collected what was left of the hand in one of them I rejoined Brody and Fraser.

‘That it?’ Fraser asked, squinting at the bag.

‘That’s it.’

‘Hardly worth bothering with.’

I ignored him and went to where an upright section of charred timber still stood in the ruins of the community centre. The wooden spar was blackened to charcoal. Attached to it were bright copper strands, all that remained of the centre’s electrical wiring. The plastic insulation around the copper had been burned away, but the wires themselves were intact, still stapled to the wooden post.

Judging from their position, they would have fed the light switch by the entrance. Seeing them, an idea began to form, too faint even to call a suspicion. I’d only managed to escape from the burning hall because the fire hadn’t spread as far as the doors. So it must have started at the far side, opposite where I now stood. I started to circle the wreckage of the centre, making my way round there.

‘Now what?’ Fraser demanded irritably. Brody said nothing, just watched, thoughtfully.

‘There’s something I want to check.’

I told myself I was probably wasting my time as I scanned the ashes and wreckage where the back wall had stood. Then something caught my eye. Crouching down, I gently brushed away the ash to reveal what I’d hoped I wouldn’t find.

Small metal puddles, gleaming against the charred wood.

The sight sent a chill through me. I’d attended enough fire scenes to know only too well what they meant.

This was no accident.

And then an even worse thought struck me, one I hadn’t even considered until now. Oh, Christ.

Gripped by a new sense of urgency, I hurried back to Brody and Fraser. But even as I did I heard a car approaching, and saw Maggie Cassidy’s battered Mini bumping up the road towards us.

Her timing couldn’t have been worse. She climbed out, diminutive as ever in her oversized red coat.

‘Morning, gents,’ she greeted us, cheerfully. ‘I hear somebody had a barbecue last night.’

Fraser was already striding towards her. ‘This is off limits. Back in your car. Now!’

The wind flattened her coat around her like a cocoon as she held out her Dictaphone, as though to ward him off. There was nervousness in her face, but she did her best to disguise it.

‘Aye? Why’s that?’

‘Because I say so.’

She shook her head with mock-regret. ‘Sorry, not good enough. I slept through all the excitement last night, and I’m not missing out on it now. Perhaps if you gave me a few words, oh, say about how there’s now a murder investigation going on, and how you think the fire started, then I’ll be very happy to leave you in peace.’

Fraser balled his fists, glaring at her with such animosity I was worried he’d do something stupid. Maggie gave me a smile.

‘How about you, Dr Hunter? Any chance of-’

‘We need to talk.’

I don’t know who looked most surprised, her or Fraser.

‘You’re not talking to her!’

I caught Brody’s eye. ‘Let him be,’ he told Fraser.

‘What? You’ve got to be joking. She’s a bloody-’

‘Just do it!’

All his years of command cracked into his voice. Fraser didn’t like it, but he gave in.

‘Aye, fine! Do what you bloody like,’ he snapped, walking back towards the Range Rover.

‘Don’t let him go anywhere,’ I warned Brody. ‘We need the car.’

Maggie was watching me suspiciously, as though this might be some new sort of trick.

‘I need your help,’ I told her, taking her arm and leading her back towards the Mini. ‘We’re going to leave now, and I don’t want you to come after us.’

She stared at me as if I were mad. ‘What is this, are you-’

‘Listen. Please,’ I added, knowing too much time had already been wasted. ‘You want a story, I promise you’ll get one. But right now, I need you to leave us alone.’

The incredulous smile slowly died from her lips. ‘This is bad, isn’t it?’

‘I hope not. But I think it might be, yes.’

The wind blew a strand of hair across her face as her eyes searched mine. She gave a nod as she brushed it away.

‘All right. But there’d better be a front-page story for me in this, all right?’

I hurried back to where Brody and Fraser waited by the Range Rover as she climbed back into her Mini.

‘What the hell did you say to her?’ Fraser demanded as she drove away.

‘It doesn’t matter. Have you spoken to Duncan this morning?’

‘Duncan? No, not yet,’ he said, defensively. ‘He hasn’t called in yet. But, you know, I was going to take him out some breakfast later…’

‘Try him now.’

‘Now? Why, what’s-’

‘Just do it.’

He gave me a dirty look but reached for his radio. ‘Can’t get through…’ he frowned.

‘All right, get in the car. We’re going out there.’

Brody had been watching with a worried expression, but said nothing until we were in the car and Fraser was pulling away. ‘What is it? What did you find?’

I was staring anxiously through the windscreen as we left the village, scanning the sky ahead of us. ‘I checked the wiring back at the community centre. A fire caused by an electrical fault wouldn’t have been hot enough to melt the copper core. But there’s an area round the back where the wires were melted.’

‘So what?’ Fraser asked, impatiently.

‘It means the fire was hotter there,’ Brody said, slowly. ‘Oh, Christ.’

Fraser banged the steering wheel. ‘Will somebody please tell me what the fuck’s going on?’

‘It was hotter there because that’s where an accelerant was used to start it,’ I told him. ‘The fire wasn’t caused by a short. Somebody set it deliberately.’

He was still trying to work it out. ‘What’s that got to do with Duncan?’

It was Brody who answered. ‘Because if someone wanted to get rid of the evidence, it might not only have been the clinic that was torched.’

I could see from Fraser’s face that he finally understood. But even if he hadn’t there was no need to explain further.

Smeared across the sky directly ahead was a black trail of smoke.

The meandering terrain prevented us from seeing the source of the smoke. It seemed like every hill and bend in the road conspired to keep the cottage and camper van from view. Fraser put his foot down, tearing along the narrow road much faster than was safe in the atrocious conditions. No one complained.

Then we rounded one final bend, and the old cottage was revealed in front of us. So, too, was the camper van.

What was left of it.

‘Oh, no,’ Fraser said.

Most of the smoke we’d seen was coming from the cottage. There hadn’t been much left to burn, but the thick roof beams and timbers that had fallen in the day before were still smouldering in the ruins. If there had been anything in there that SOC might have salvaged, it had been destroyed now.

But it was the sight of Brody’s camper van that transfixed us. It had been reduced to a burned-out shell, tyres melted to misshapen lumps of rubber. The living quarters had been almost completely consumed, walls eaten away by the fire, roof partially blown off when either the gas cylinder or petrol tank had exploded. Thin trails of smoke rose wraith-like from it, only to be whisked away by the wind.